


The Playing with Fire Raid

by Amedia



Series: Guests [3]
Category: The Rat Patrol
Genre: Agel made me do it, Crack, M/M, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M, so much crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 17:31:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19891654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amedia/pseuds/Amedia
Summary: Toward the end of the story "Guests of the Sheik," which was published in the multimedia zine DIVERSE DOINGS 2 (1998), there's a throwaway line in which Troy and Moffitt joke about "Dietrich coming between us." The editor, Kathy Agel, wanted me to write a story in which that event (a three-way with Troy, Moffitt, and Dietrich) actually happened--well, it's only been 21 years, but have I ever turned down a request from Agel? This story can be considered part of the "Guests" universe.Just so you know, this has not been given the usual thorough multi-draft beta-read by TODS through which most of my fic goes: this is utter, irredeemable crack.





	The Playing with Fire Raid

It was never easy to hold onto a member of the Rat Patrol. Dietrich sighed. At least Troy's rescue hadn't resulted in any deaths this time; his team members had somehow inveigled themselves into the hospital where Troy was being kept, under the guise of being specialists from an important medical team who needed to study Troy in order to hep German soldiers survive under similar conditions.

Dietrich doubted that he would have gotten much useful information from Troy anyway; the man was barely coherent, delirious from sunstroke. Dietrich kept telling himself that nothing Troy had said or done in that condition was the slightest bit meaningful, but he couldn't help but wonder.

The afternoon that Troy had been captured—the day before his team had rescued him—Dietrich had stopped by to see if there was any useful intelligence to be gained by a conversation with his prisoner. And, if he were honest, to see how Troy was doing; they had been enemies for so long that he found himself almost as concerned as he would have been for a friend. 

Troy, his eyes bleary and unfocused, had looked up at the tall, thin figure at his bedside and said hazily, "Moffitt?"

 _Now here's an opportunity_ , thought Dietrich. _Perhaps this confusion of identity can be exploited_. He pulled over a chair and sat down next to Troy. "How are you feeling ... Troy?"

"I hate to admit it, but ... not so good."

“I hope you’ll soon be fit for action,” Dietrich said, doing his best to imitate Moffitt’s accent. Troy put his hand up in an obvious request and smiled as Dietrich took it. Troy pulled the hand toward his own face, laying the back of Dietrich’s hand against his own cheek. Dietrich was startled at the display of affection from the normally reserved Troy. _I suppose it's natural that he behaves more openly when he thinks he's not in the presence of an enemy._ Troy’s next action, however, surprised him more, as the American rasped, “Don’t worry. I’ll be ready for all sorts of action soon,” and turned Dietrich’s hand over, bringing it to his lips to plant a kiss on the palm. 

It was all Dietrich could do not to jump back. Troy's eyes fluttered closed, his hand on Dietrich's slackening, and Dietrich carefully pulled his own hand back without rushing. Three possibilities darted into his mind. Perhaps Troy was out of his head and acting completely at random. Perhaps Troy really did feel this way but would never express or act on it were he not in an altered state of consciousness. Or—perhaps Troy and Moffitt were actually in a sexual relationship. That last possibility seemed to fit best with Troy's words and actions ... but it was also the most outlandish. 

A fourth possibility occurred to him: he might have imagined the whole thing. Indeed, in this hot and stuffy room, he might easily have dozed off. It would have seemed the most plausible explanation—except that the palm of his hand still tingled where Troy had kissed it.

******

His chance to narrow down possible interpretations for Troy's behavior came sooner than Dietrich expected. On leave, he found a familiar town in neutral territory that had seized the opportunity to make money off both sides. Dietrich had visited this one before; after a welcome bath, he ignored the noisy popular bars on the gravel road that led through the center of town, and turned down a side street, looking for something smaller, perhaps more intimate. A hand-lettered sign caught his attention: "The Absinthe Bar," and he ducked inside.

The place was dimly lit and nearly empty, and he stopped in the doorway, wondering if it were actually open yet. Peering inside, he could make out a bar running along one side of the room, while small round tables with two or three chairs each filled most of the rest. There was a bartender organizing bottles and wiping down glasses, who looked up, smiled, and waved Dietrich in. He went up to the bar and squinted at the list of drinks on the chalkboard. 

"The absinthe is real," said a familiar voice. Dietrich turned around; he hadn't noticed the man sitting at one of the tables in an especially dark corner. 

Dietrich walked over to the table. Moffitt smelled faintly of ras el hanout; Dietrich guessed that he had just come from a local bathhouse that offered the spice mixture as an option. Dietrich preferred a more straightforward scent, such as sage; it struck him suddenly that for all he knew, he and Moffitt might have been in adjoining rooms earlier that day. The idea was both disturbing and attractive in ways he preferred not to think about. He forced his attention back to the conversation at hand. "Thank you for that information, Sergeant Moffitt," he said. "I've never tried it myself, real or otherwise."

Moffitt shrugged and took a sip of what looked like cognac from a nearly-empty glass. "They do the whole ritual with the silver spoon and the lump of sugar. It's worth watching."

Dietrich was curious. "I thought absinthe was a dangerous hallucinogen," he said, leaving unspoken the question, _have you tried it yourself?_

"Its reputation may be somewhat exaggerated," said Moffitt. "It affects different people differently. Some not at all." The last statement sounded regretful, and Dietrich believed his question had been answered. Moffitt continued. "Whatever you're having, you're welcome to join me."

"Thank you, Sergeant," said Dietrich, startled. _I hardly expected such an opportunity to fall into my lap_ , he thought to himself. _Perhaps he can answer some far more important questions for me than what kind of drinks he's sampled. It should be easier once his tongue has been loosened by alcohol._

He wandered back to the bar and quietly ordered himself a beer along with a ghibli, then returned to Moffitt's table. Moffitt was just finishing his cognac as Dietrich set the cocktail in front of him. Moffitt looked up, startled. "Yes, I know your favorite drink, Sergeant," said Dietrich smoothly. "I make it my business to know as much as possible about my enemies. Especially the most stubborn and ineradicable."

Moffitt grinned. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Captain, but it's appreciated nonetheless. And I would love to hear you try to pronounce 'ineradicable' after one of these," he said.

Dietrich ignored the implicit challenge. The questions he had would be much easier to ask if his own drinks were less intoxicating than those of his drinking partner. 

Three beers, two giblis, and another cognac later, Dietrich decided it was time. With affected casualness, he said, "Troy was quite delirious last time I saw him."

"Mm-hm," said Moffitt noncomittally. 

Dietrich couldn't read him. He pressed on. "He said some very interesting things." Moffitt looked up sharply. Dietrich continued. "About you."

"About me?" Moffitt asked. "Really." He stared thoughtfully into his drink for a long moment, then looked up at Dietrich. Dietrich couldn't quite read his eyes; concern, perhaps, but not quite fear. Not yet.

"It appeared from what Troy said that your relationship is not exactly professional."

Moffitt looked amused. "Very nicely put, Herr Hauptmann. In other words," he punctuated his words with a swallow of liquor and waved his glass for emphasis, "we're having sex."

"You don't deny it?" Dietrich asked.

Moffitt shrugged. "Have I any reason to?"

Dietrich was getting irritated. Surely Moffitt wasn't drunk enough to become stupid. "I could get you and Troy discharged for the Army for this," he said.

"Do you honestly think my superiors would believe you?" Moffitt asked. "It's one thing for you to know, but it's quite another for you to convince them."

Dietrich stared at Moffitt in the dim light of the bar, and found himself drawn in. The flickering oil lamps cast irregular shadow patterns over the Englishman's face.

"What is it?" asked Moffitt, sounding puzzled.

Dietrich sighed and looked back down at his drink. "I just don't get it, Sergeant," he admitted. "I look at you, I look at Troy, I can't see you as lovers. I can't begin to imagine what Troy sees when he looks at you."

"You don't see a potential lover?" Moffitt asked with a grin.

Dietrich shook his head. "Of course not. I see an enemy."

Moffitt turned abruptly serious and leaned closer to Dietrich. "That was a very interesting answer. Not at all what I expected."

"No?" asked Dietrich, intrigued despite himself.

"I thought you'd say, 'Of course not. I see another man.' I should have thought _that_ impediment would be prior."

Dietrich found himself staring into Moffitt's eyes, long-lashed and gray-green in the lamplight. He felt strangely lightheaded, spellbound, as if he were on the verge of understanding something he had never realized before.

Moffitt's voice was very soft, but it broke the spell. "You know what you're doing, don't you, Herr Hauptmann?" he asked. Dietrich tore his gaze away and looked down at the table, feeling his cheeks flush, hearing his blood pounding in his ears. Moffitt tipped his face back up with a finger under his chin. "You're playing with fire."

"Perhaps I don't mind getting a little singed," said Dietrich defiantly.

"Singed?" Moffitt scoffed. "Try scorched." He finished the rest of his drink in a single gulp, stood up and held out his hand. "Come with me?"

Dietrich took a breath, stood up, and took Moffitt's hand, leaving the rest of his own drink behind.

****

Moffitt led him to another quiet street nearby and into a small hotel. The innkeeper bowed as they came in, and Dietrich followed Moffitt up stairs and into a sparsely-furnished room. Troy arose from the single chair as they entered.

"I was hoping we'd find you here," Troy said to Dietrich. "And that we'd find you ... amenable." Dietrich was wondering if this was the time he should start having second thoughts, but Troy's greeting drew him further into the strange appeal of the whole situation. 

The two commandos wasted no time preparing their visitor. Troy stripped him efficiently as he stood in the center of the room, while Moffitt gently tied a black silk night mask over his eyes. "It will heighten the sensations, " Moffitt whispered. "I promise." He didn’t say it would reduce the strangeness, perhaps, Dietrich thought, because he was aware that it couldn’t. 

Dietrich had once had an experience with two prostitutes at once, owing to a gift certificate from a comrade whose company he had rescued. The two girls were in continuous contact with him, pressed against him everywhere as he lay in the bed, all sweet-scented softness, with smooth skin and long satiny hair. 

Now was completely different; he heard the others removing their clothing, and then two bodies stood pressed against him, hard and muscular. Troy’s hand on his chest was rough and calloused, while Moffitt, who was gently nuzzling the back of his neck, was scraping him slightly with a stubbled chin. "Are you sure about this, Captain? " asked Troy. 

Dietrich nodded, and felt hands and lips moving over his body. At first he tried to keep track of who was doing what, reasoning from clues such as height and scent. But then one of them used his tongue in a place so intimate that Dietrich's mind turned to flame and all coherent thought vanished. He groaned with pleasure; his knees buckled and he felt himself being carried to the bed, where the onslaught of sensual bliss continued in all its intensity. 

******

Dietrich awoke with a pleasant sense of having a warm body next to him in bed. He opened his eyes to find Moffitt beside him, smiling. "How are you, Captain?" 

"Surprisingly well," said Dietrich. He looked around and saw that the two of them were alone. "Where's Troy?"

"He went down to bargain with the innkeeper," said Moffitt, sounding amused. "Our good host observed that there were three of us in a room paid up for only two. I predict Troy will not only straighten out that part of the bill, but return with a free breakfast as well. He has a knack for such things."

"The innkeeper noticed us?" Dietrich asked nervously, wondering whether he had been seen in such company with such a destination, and how much last night's activities might cost him.

"No fear, Captain," Moffitt assured him. "Our host's reputation for discretion is worth more to him than any petty sum he might fetch from blackmailing his guests. Your secret is safe with him." He grinned. "In fact, all our secrets are safe with each other."

Dietrich was surprised how much the casual statement stung. Stiffly, with as much dignity as he could muster given that he was naked in bed with a sworn enemy, he said, "So, that was your motivation last night? Obtaining something to use against me to ensure my silence?"

Moffitt drew his breath in sharply. "Oh, Captain," he said. He laid a hand on Dietrich's cheek, turning Dietrich's face toward him, and kissed him softly. "Never believe that."

"Hey!" said a voice from the door. Troy came in bearing a tray of food. "Don't you two start up again without me."

"Dietrich suspects us of dishonorable intentions," said Moffitt. "He thinks this was all about blackmail insurance."

Troy set the tray down and plopped down on the bed on Dietrich's other side. "He hasn't figured it out yet, has he?"

Dietrich looked from one smiling face to the other. "Figured what out?" he asked.

"The whole thing was my idea from the beginning," said Troy. "Did you really think I mistook you for Moffitt?" 

Dietrich stared at him for a moment, allowing ideas to sort themselves out in his mind, viewing previous events with a new light. Finally, he asked, "What made you think I'd be interested, Sergeant?"

"I had a feeling, though I didn't really know," said Troy. "But I thought it would be worth the risk. Moffitt agreed."

Dietrich thought for a moment. "As do I, Sergeant," he said. "As do I."


End file.
